Goodbye, Draco
by Adrian Hunter
Summary: A different take on what happens after "Sectumsempra". AU, Ghost!Draco


_A/N: My first Drarry,I think this happened when I was very sad, just to give you a heads up, Draco is a ghost in this fic, I don't know if that changes later, I might find some magical way to bring him back, or not, but he's dead right now._

_Don't say I didn't warn ya!And yes it is DRARRY_

_Mature for language and stuff_

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of these bloody characters, stop reminding me!_

Goodbye, Draco

-Hunter

Chapter 1: "Sectumsempra"

_Death comes to the non-expecting living._

When I first wake up I tell myself that I can't believe it.

I can't believe that Harry Potter killed me.

I can't believe it.

I can't believe that I, Draco was killed by the Sectumsempra curse. I will also note that I believe the incident was partly accidental, because judging by the look on Harry Potter's face and the way that he runs out of the bathroom looking for help, it is definitely not on purpose; but nonetheless not easy to accept. But then again looking at my body on the bathroom floor bleeding, my eyes dead and my breathing no more, maybe I can admit it.

I can admit that I, Draco Abraxaes Malfoy was killed at the tender age of sixteen in Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom on May 18th, 1997.

I feel sad, yes, I wish that I could have died more gracefully or even in a different way, or better yet, not die at all, but I suppose it couldn't be. I had to die defending myself from a person who found me crying then decided to accuse me and then curse me with a curse that the person didn't even know to begin with.

Deciding that it's best to wait until help comes and see what becomes of what was once me. I wonder what happens to me after this, if I descend to the heaven with those angels that mother used to tell me about. I wonder if mother will be alright, I don't think she will, to be honest.

And father? Father will be slightly bothered at most; it's funny that I'm not feeling more emotions than I am at the moment. It's not supposed to be like this.

Then I remember my only friends. Pansy, Blaise, Vince, Greg, and even Terry. It makes me chuckle a bit, I think if I was alive I would be crying probably, but my noiseless laughter is all I can get now.

"Pansy, Blaise, Vince, Greg , Terry." I'm trying my voice out, it sounds like it usually does, but I suspect it makes no noise to anyone else.

I think I'll miss Pansy and Blaise the most; they were as much of best friends as I could get. Even Vince and Greg, but they were working out their issues just a couple weeks back, so contact with them wasn't as much.

I think I'll miss Terry, even if we haven't spoken to each other ever since "The Hair". I liked him very much, to the point of heartbreak, but some things aren't meant to be. Maybe he'll think of me once he finds out I'm gone. But where will I go?

I walk to the bathroom sink and look in the mirror; I don't see myself, and that makes it a bit harder. I really think I'm going to cry now, not for the first time here. If only Myrtle was here, she could give me some company at least. All I see is the deep red that's seeping out of my lifeless body. Isn't that wasting blood? I sigh and ruffle my hair. Maybe I can move things, I don't know, I wasn't given a _Now That You Are Dead_ handbook. I crouch and look at the scene before me and move towards my body and gently move my hand to my face, I can feel it somehow.

I suddenly feel so cold and shiver. My platinum blonde hair, the only thing on my whole body that I'm proud of is stained to the deepest red, I touch it, it's soft, like it always is, was I guess now; not like the slicked back look I had when I was younger, this is so comforting I rub my eyes expecting a flood of tears that don't come.

Touching my former eyes, I close them; I was often told I had my father's eyes, it's true, I did have father's eyes, the eyes he had when he was himself, all that's there is nothing but a robot, but all good things come to an end. Life being one of them.

Sad, but true.

I'm ready for whatever comes now. I'm ready.

Voices, voices and footsteps- and running- and I'm hearing it all. People are coming; Potter must've gotten help, I can hear shouting and more running and- this is making it harder, being reminded of everything I'm losing or lost.

"Draco!" My potions master, my godfather gasps. He rushes to my body and props me up and shakes me. Madam Pomfrey shrieks at him saying that he'll do more damage. He moves from his position and gives her space to do what she needs on me. And nobody notices me standing right next to the body, my former body. I am almost tempted to scream, shout or even punch; maybe it'll affect them, maybe-

No, I tell myself. It's over, what would be the point of all that?

I hear spell after spell after spell and there are potions and potions and potions being fed to me; Madam Pomfrey hasn't taken me to the infirmary because she says I won't make it. Severus is talking to me, trying to make me respond somehow, but I can't, it can't. Then I notice that Dumbledore is here, he's in the center of the bathroom right next to me, and maybe he knows I'm here. For once he doesn't have that twinkle in his eyes and it's somewhat of a shame that my last memory of Dumbledore is him looking so solemn. I wish I understood what every liked about him, I wish I tried more, I wish I lived more, but it's over, it's finished, it's gone.

And for that I wish I could be mad at Potter, I wish I could be so angry at Potter, for taking me away from this world, where's there's mother and my favorite strawberry custard that she makes so well, then there's Pansy and our usual mischief, gossiping about this and that, shopping, dancing; Blaise who helps me emotionally, and our talks, like that time I went through the Great Depression pt. one and two; Vince and Greg who helped e accept myself when I was a child; Theo who was a jerk, but nonetheless taught me-

Then that's when I see him and hear him-Harry Potter.

Harry Potter weeping, softly.

He's standing at the entrance to the bathroom in his school uniform, hideous Gryffindor colors with blood on his hands, wand loosely being held on his left. Glasses over his green eyes, that I once thought were warm, but I don't think so anymore. Just there, tears stream, it's steady and he's not making any noise. I want to walk to him, I try, but I get two steps forward before I feel a hand on my shoulder.

I jump, because no one is supposed to be able to touch me, or have the ghost rules changed?

Then I see that it's Myrtle, floating around like she always does, but this time I am nothing less or more than her, just another wandering ghost, murdered in the bathroom; it's almost funny and ironic that I used to joke and make fun of the same Myrtle. She's looking at me, telling me silently not to go to him, but I only wanted to understand, understand why Potter of all people should care. Why? Just why? Why should he cry? Because he thinks he's killed another person? Because he's got more blood on his hand? Not because he never cared or tried to know or understand the person he's murdered?

I'm the one who is murdered; I'm the one who was murdered. I am no longer here, I don't exist, and I am no more.

What did I do to deserve this?

Why did it have to be me?

Why me?

Why me?

"Why me?" I'm saying quietly, but I believe it won't stay like that for long.

"Why me?!" Myrtle is surprised by how I almost scream that one out. Yet still no one can see that it's him, no one can hear him, he doesn't belong- he doesn't exist.

"WHY ME?!" And I'm crying, crying tears of a dark red liquid. I'm crying tears of blood. Myrtle's trying to hold me back, trying to comfort me, the emotions just come, they're here; what I've been waiting for. I don't know why, I don't know why I had to die like this, life isn't supposed to end for me.

"He's gone" Dumbledore says bereft to Madam Pomfrey and Severus. But Severus is still talking almost feverishly to my dead body. Madam Pomfrey stops everything she's doing, but Severus is still at it.

"Draco, you can't-no, you can't- Draco if you don't get up this instance I won't give you those special potions ingredients that you wanted me to- and your mother, oh your poor mother-she won't be able to manage-

"Severus" Dumbledore tries softly.

"….the training that you wanted to be a great potions master hasn't finished and-and…."

"SEVERUS!" Dumbledore bellows this time and it's the first time I ever hear it. I can still feel my tears and I slump onto the floor; they're moving me, taking me somewhere. Headmaster is saying something about my parents and informing them. Madam Pomfrey covers me with the curtains and she's sobbing; I liked her and she liked me, from the secret infirmary trips I used to take to get my asthma medicine.

Severus, oh Severus- my mentor, my father-the one that I never had talks hysterically so much that it breaks my heart, I turn away and lean against the cold marble- it's strange I can still feel it when I'm dead. I cover my ears and close my eyes so I don't have to hear or see anything. I start drowning out their voices with my own, I blurt things that don't even make sense, I need a distraction. Myrtle doesn't seem to be around, she stopped murmured things to comfort me, where is she?

I open my eyes to look around and see Potter-I see Dumbledore leading Potter out- more like holding him up- and then they're walking out the entrance and they're gone.

Even me, what was once me, gone.

The floor is clean and smelling like fresh roses, as if nothing ever happened at all; it makes me sick.

The sun is out for a second I think I can feel it, until I go under its rays and see my translucent body, it's still too much for me.

"I really am dead," I say as I slump against the sink.

"I'm dead," I start chanting on and on and on and on. It's the only thing I remember saying for what seems like hours.

"Draco, darling, come now," _Myrtle_- she's back, it's almost comforting, she looks at me with her disheveled hair, torn dress and messed up make up. I always felt sorry for her, but all people used to do was laugh at her, but I didn't, I don't. She comforted me every time I came to this bathroom to cry. It's a shame it had to take a tragedy to bring us together.

She puts her icy cold hand on my hair and ruffles it sympathetically, as if she's not the one that's not been dead for ages and hasn't moved her; and to also be laughed at and ridiculed by idiotic students.

"It took me time too," She says softly and I look at her, I look into her eyes and all I see is dead-dead-dead.

"I don't, I want- why did I-"And that's where I stop because the blood is flowing down my face, if I could see myself I'm sure I wouldn't be at my best. Maybe that's why Myrtle always looked like how she looked.

I don't know that ghost to ghost contact is possible until she hugs me, I'm certain that she's going to hug through me, but it doesn't happen. I'm surprised, but there are no happy emotions that can possibly come out of this except that I have company, and there might even be other ghosts around this castle and ghouls and phantoms and spirits, if there's a difference.

"At least you have company now," I say to her as she breaks the hug, trying for a joke, who knew ghosts could be funny. I also wish that I could feel warm somehow, but I know I've lost that.

She looks at me funny before she laughs, not like the laugh we often used to think she laughed like, she almost seemed alive. "But what will happen when you pass on, dear?" She asks with a not-so-smile smile.

"It should be you, who I should be thinking about passing on, you know," It is the truth, "You've been here for so long, I still don't know why you haven't passed on." I regret saying that the minute it comes out and some sort of emotion flicker across her face. I feel bad, I'm sorry.

"Well- I think it's high time I introduced you to the others." She says, and I'm grateful she's changing the topic before I realize what she said.

"There's-"

"Just come and I won't have to explain anything." She holds out her grey hand and I take it; later on I would say it was when I had been accepted into this world, this world of the dead; I take her hand and pulls me up from my slumping and I wonder whether I can float maybe, I wonder who I'll meet and I wonder if mother knows yet or Pansy or Blaise or Vince or Greg and even Theo.

I wonder if Potter's sorry, and what Potter's sorry for.

_You have to let go of the past, _Terry said that day, with the wind in his long dark locks, eyes closed, his whole person basking in the sun, I hated that I couldn't tan and Theo told me that I was perfect the way I was, that was the day that I learnt how to love and then later on learnt how to hate even more.

"Draco," Myrtle says softly, "you have to-"

"Leave the past behind." And I try to smile at her, but I can't really. It's strange, I don't really know if this is and end or a beginning of something, I just take her hand and follow her into the darkness that is my new home.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed crying! Just kidding, I love yall! Review please~


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